


No Spring Skips Its Turn

by softSnowdrop



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Pre-Canon, Vernal sees a side of Raven that Yang never got to see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softSnowdrop/pseuds/softSnowdrop
Summary: Everyone had heard about the Branwen tribe—a ruthless group who would take in those that they didn’t kill, those that they felt were worthy. Anyone else would see their home raided, and whoever was present killed.They could destroy anything they wanted to, have anything they wanted to—all by outnumbering and using force on whoever they wanted to take from. They were killers, they were mass-murderers, they were cold... They were a lot of things, and rarely anything good was tacked onto the Branwen name.If someone found and willingly joined this fabled Branwen Tribe for whatever reason, they would be putting their own life at risk—but that doesn’t really matter all that much when you’re fourteen, a runaway, and have nothing else to live for, does it?





	1. Chapter 1

                Sheathing her blade, Raven looked at the barren land in front of her; she didn’t do this. She didn’t destroy this village, no—something else had been here. Something else had pillaged this town, leaving the buildings torched to the ground, the fauna dried and depleted, and all sign of recent live gone.

                She slowly turned away, breathing a deep sigh and allowing the steam to roll back towards her face in the bitter, winter breeze.

                _Was it a grimm attack, or a different group of bandits?_ She asked herself. _Something else?_

                A part of her hesitated—debating whether or not to draw her weapon again, just in case someone was lurking. Though, the other part remained calm, assured that nothing was lurking behind the dilapidated stone fencing around the town.

                She had only come here to collect what the leader of this village had owed her—whether that be in supplies or her life, she wasn’t sure. Since the place had clearly been wiped out, however, she realized that she wasn’t getting anything from a _living_ person.

                She donned her mask and turned back around to face the village. “Well,” She spoke aloud to herself. “We need supplies. Nobody will put up a fight if I take whatever is left from here now.”

                And with that, she made her way into the desolate village.

 

                Walking through the empty town of cracked pavement and broken buildings, she saw nothing at a first—though, supplies that was left behind never made itself particularly visible at a glance. She wanted to scout the area before delving into any old buildings—find her own escape route, search for any sign of grimm—see if she could spot anything that might cause a _problem_ for her.

                All was vacant and silent—that is, until she caught a shadow moving from the corner of her eye. Whatever it was, it was small, fast, and it bolted under the building to her right. Instinctively, Raven drew her weapon and poised for an attack, while slowly moving towards the building.

                A part of her expected it to be an oversized raccoon—the thing was strangely humanoid, though, so her first thought was that it was another bandit.

                And like hell was she going to let them have whatever was leftover in this dingy, scrappy, dead town.

                Much to her surprise, though, it was a child. Fierce blue eyes pierced Raven from the shadows, and she held a knife so tightly in her hand that her knuckles had turned as white as a sheet.

                She was visibly nervous—alone, dirty, and seeing an adult in a terrifying mask brandishing a weapon, who wouldn’t be? Even Raven could see why.

                So, she withdrew—though she didn’t sheathe her weapon. She held it in one hand, and removed her mask with the other, before crouching in front of the building again.

                The girl under the building tensed visibly, wearing a snarl as she spoke. “What do _you_ want?”

                Raven almost laughed at the feeble attempt to appear threatening, her lips curling into a small smile as she spoke. “I want to know your name, and why you’re here.”

                “I ran away from home, and this was the only place that I could find. I didn’t want to be found.”

_A runaway, and a feisty one._

                “And your name?”

                “It’s… Vernal.” Though her expression softened, her posture stayed as tense and ready-to-roll as it had been before. “Why do you need to know?”

                “How old are you, Vernal?”

                “Fourteen.”

_She’s so young, too._

                “Well, Vernal. I’m going to take some supplies from here, and then go home.” Raven slowly retreated again, standing up straight and arching her back briefly—just to pop it a few times. “I think I may have some use to you, if you want to come with me.”

                She watched the front of the building, and saw the girl slowly poke her head back out. “What’s in it for me?”

                “Food, shelter, protection. Whatever we can offer, as long as you pull your weight.” She paused, thinking briefly to a rumor she had heard about a spring maiden. “Plus, I may have some use for you.

                Vernal looked between Raven’s weapon and her face, and slowly exited from her hiding place. When she stood, Raven could see all of the injuries she had withstood for however long she had been out here. She could see the paleness in her face, the frailty in her limbs from not having enough to eat—but regardless of those things, her fighting spirit had still remained.

                She was strong, and Branwens admired strength.

 

                She hadn’t forced Vernal to carry too much, out of concern that the girl would break or die of exhaustion before they made it back to camp, but she never let her guard down. It wasn’t uncommon for bandits to use a sickly child to lure innocent, stupid people, to their own demise. Raven wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that kind of obvious trap.

                But there was something about this child that made that seem unlikely. Maybe it was the distance she kept from Raven as they wandered the destroyed town, maybe it was the fact that she didn’t seem to want to rely on Raven for help when getting to items, maybe it was the way she always had her own knife ready, in case Raven had tried something—maybe it was just the fact that she avoided her gaze, but kept that cold, angry scowl on her face.

                Whatever it was, Raven didn’t feel like this child was part of a greater scheme. Not at the moment, at least.

                Once Raven found the Spring Maiden, however… A child with such a fitting name, it would almost be ironic for her to be the Spring Maiden.

                “Raven?” Vernal, for the first time since they met, spoke without being addressed. “What were you doing in that town?”

                “I had some… Business with the leader.” Raven kept her gaze forward, her arms wrapped around the small crate of what little supplies they could find. “But,” She huffed, adjusting the position of the box. “since the leader didn’t seem to be around anymore, I didn’t have a choice but to go in for leftovers.”

                “How often did you go there?”

                “It doesn’t matter, Vernal.”

                Vernal grew quiet, her gaze locked on the other’s back as she followed behind her. Raven was fully aware that she was being watched, but knew no malice came from the other’s stare.

                After a moment of the silence, Raven spoke again, glancing back over her shoulder at the girl. “If you want to say something, you can speak up.”

                “I was just wondering how long the village had been like that.”

                Raven sighed, shutting her eyes before glancing down at the mask she had laid inside of her own supply box. “I only go once a month, unless my people need something urgently.”

                “Your… People?”

                “I’m a Branwen.”

                She could hear the tension in the other’s voice; she didn’t have to look back to know that her eyes had gotten wider.

                _Branwen’s are killers. They take innocent lives. They—_

                “I thought the Branwen tribe was just a legend.” She spoke, her voice cool and low. “I didn’t think they—”

                Raven let out a soft laugh—it wasn’t one of endearment, but it was phony, it was forced. “Were real? Well, now you’ve met one.” She stopped in her tracks, looking from left to right. “We can be your best friend, or we can be your worst enemy, Vernal. It’s up to you.”

                She slowly turned around to face Vernal, her red eyes reflecting the world before her and staring directly into Vernal’s. “We’re almost there. We just have to take a detour from the path and walk through the woods.” She paused, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. “This is the point of no return, Vernal. If you trust me, then you’ll follow me.”

                Vernal didn’t turn away, she didn’t avert her gaze—she just gave a very slow nod, her eyes still locked on Raven’s.

                “Good.” Raven’s lips curled upward in a small smile. “But, if I’m honest, Vernal. You should start doing something before you blindly follow them.”

                “What’s that?”

                “Question them.”

                With that, Raven slowly parted some of the lifeless branches, and with the loud crunching beneath her boots, stepped foot off the path.

               

                Vernal was left at a loss for words by the other’s comment. She, at the moment, couldn’t find a single thing to ask Raven—but she found a dozen, if not more, questions for herself.

_Question them? What does she want me to ask? If the rumors are true, if she’s actually a killer—or if we’re really going back to her tribe? Or what they’re going to do with me once we’re there—_

                “Are you worried?” She heard Raven sigh again, heavy, emotionally weary. “Are you trying to figure out what I meant?”

                “What did you mean by question them?”

                “What do you think?” She could hear the frown in Raven’s tone. “Don’t just accept what they tell you at face value—ask questions.”

                “What if, in this situation, questions get me killed?”

                “They won’t. Not when you’re with me, at least.”

                “Then what are you going to do with me after we get to your camp?” Vernal paused, hesitating before speaking. “You need to scrounge supplies up from ruined towns and villages—why am I supposed to believe that you can give me shelter and food?”

                Raven laughed quietly, throwing her head back and narrowly avoiding catching her mess of hair on a stray branch as she did so. “You’re desperate and willing to believe that I can.” She replied. “Look at you, you’re stick-thin—if there’s a chance for a decent meal, I know you’re going to be ready to take it.”

                She ducked under another branch before looking back over her shoulder, searching Vernal’s face for any reaction before she continued. “We have plenty of food—we hunt, we negotiate, we do what we can. But it never hurts to have extra, especially when it comes to medical supplies and tools.”

                “So, it really wasn’t a lie, then?”

                “No.”

                “And what are you going to do with me when we get back to your camp?”

                A smirk crossed Raven’s lips, though she never looked back to let Vernal see it. “I’ll give you a choice once we’re there. You’ll be free to go, or you can stay with us, and train under me.”

                “I’ll—”

                Raven interrupted, her tone frustrated. “Remember what I said, Vernal.” _Don’t make a choice you know nothing about._

                _Question people._ Vernal held her tongue, inhaling deeply as she thought again. “What do you mean by train under you?”

                “You’ll learn to be a better fighter. You don’t have any real experience, do you?”

                “No, I don’t.” She murmured, her gaze drifting off to the side. “And what happens if I decide to leave?”

                “Well, if you decide to leave the tribe, I can’t promise that any encounters you have with me or my people will be positive.”

                When Vernal said nothing, Raven spoke again. “So, do you still know what your choice will be?”

                “I do.” Vernal spoke almost immediately, with as much confidence as a fourteen-year-old runaway could. “I want to train under you.”

                Raven didn’t hesitate to ask, her tone become more genuine and direct as she spoke again. “Are you willing to lie for your tribe?”

                “Yes.”

                “Steal?”

                “Of course.”

                “Kill?”

                Vernal hesitated, but ultimately spoke with self-assurance. “Anything that I can do.”

                “Even if that means you might die?”

                “How often do people from your tribe die?”

                Raven smiled at the question, stepping back onto another dirt path. “Damn, I didn’t think you would catch on so quick to questioning me.”

                “That doesn’t answer my question.”

                “We don’t die, often. The last guy that we lost made the mistake of trying to raid a town on his own.”

                “Don’t… Raids normally work in groups?”

                “ _Exactly_.” Raven groaned. “The idiot went out of his way, trying to impress us by taking down four town guards at once—they chased him off, and according to them, he ran into a large ursa.”

                “So, usually you only lose people in accidents?”

                “Or dumbassery.”

                Vernal grew silent again, if only for another brief moment. “Then… I would be willing to risk my life for the tribe.”

                _I don’t have anything else to live for, so why not?_ She thought to herself, looking down at the smaller, much less-filled box of supplies in her arms.

                “We’ll work on getting you a proper weapon in the morning, then.” Raven slowed, allowing Vernal to walk alongside her as they approached a large, wooden gate, with two men pacing in front of it. “For now, I think we should get you better clothes for the weather, and a decent meal.”


	2. Chapter 2

                A week passed by, most of the days spent by Raven’s side. She saw the tribe for what it was—a bunch of people rummaging around in the wilderness, occasionally a group would leave for a raiding mission—and even sometimes, Vernal would be left alone, in Raven’s tent, while her new mentor left the settlement for a job.

                She hadn’t learned much at all about combat—but she had learned a lot of the basics for how the tribe worked. She was learning who was who, and who did what; she was learning what went where, and how Raven kept everything together as she did.

                Raven had even insisted that those in the tribe follow Vernal’s orders when she was out. She wasn’t sure why Raven had entrusted her with this—she could ruin the Branwens, lead them to their deaths, or at the least, kill their reputation—though, she would never.

                Of course, not all of the tribesmen took to Vernal as well as Raven herself had done; Raven had been cutting her a lot of slack in the first week. For what reason, they didn’t know; regardless of reason, they weren’t too fond of it. Sure, Vernal was doing her duties, but Raven’s favoritism was showing.

                The only way that the other tribesmen expressed their dislike for Vernal, though, was by performing small, passive-aggressive actions.

                If it were something that Raven could notice—a bruise, a cut, or anything else—by the way things seemed to be going, Raven would likely have whoever hurt her slaughtered—or, at the very least, tortured for awhile. She was always the first to greet Raven when the gates reopened from those occasional out-missions, too—so if she had delayed her report on what happened while Raven was gone, then surely someone other than Vernal would lose their head.

                Vernal had no complaints, though; she tried to keep to herself, and she only gave orders when she had to. In the time Raven spent gone, she would clean her and Raven’s tent—picking up the leftover bottles of alcohol that Raven had emptied during the night, cleaning the dishes in the nearby steam, occasionally preparing tea or food for Raven’s return, or other members of the tribe—it didn’t really matter what task she saw. She was slowly becoming a jack of all trades.

                Raven was surprisingly patient with her through everything—it’s not something that Vernal expected to see from a Branwen. Especially not from the tribe leader.

 

                More time passed, months went by, and Raven had been spending more and more time on these out-missions—she would be gone for days at a time. She would return and stay for a day or so, and be gone once again.

_Raven’s been back for almost a week, now, and she hasn’t said a word about leaving._ Vernal thought to herself, slowly reaching out of the box to make a note on her sheet of paper. _It’s been nice having her back so… Consistently._

                “Vernal,” Raven slowly parted the curtain to the storage tent, her hair tied back in a loose, down ponytail, and her expression tired, but gentle. “I think it’s time that we have a very important conversation.”

                Vernal froze in place. She lifted her hands out of the crate she had been organizing, and placed them on the edge. “Yeah?” _Speak of the devil._ She thought.

                “Come to my tent—but check outside of it first, and make sure that nobody else is listening.”

                Vernal looked back over her shoulder and gave a brisk nod. “I’ll finish reorganizing and taking stock, and then I’ll be there.”

                “Good.”

_She’s looking stronger than before._ Raven thought. _She doesn’t look pale anymore, and she’s actually gotten a bit more muscle._ She let the curtain fall back over the tent’s open frame, stepping back out into the cool, spring air.

                She inhaled, taking in the scent of greenery blooming to life, and she felt the sun grazing her skin once more. She left the storage tent behind, leaving Vernal to her work, and set out to enter her own dimly-lit tent again. She sat down in front of the small table in her room, drawing another deep breath and looking at the map laid before her.

                She slowly traced her finger on a green line—from her current location to a circled area. Once she found that spot with her index finger, she began to tap her fingers almost impatient against the map, a soft tapping noise reverberating in her own ears.

_So, this is where the Spring Maiden will be tomorrow._ She thought to herself. _She’ll likely be alone, since it doesn’t seem that Ozpin has found her, so… This is the best chance we have of getting her to join us._ She ceased her drumming, and moved her head in her hands.

_How much training does she even have? What if she doesn’t want to join us? What if she—_ A voice interrupted her thoughts.

                Vernal, holding the drape to the front entrance of the tent, stood there, a puzzled look on her face. “Raven?” She slowly put a foot into the room, before hesitating. “I did ask you asked—the only person around was Shay, and I made him leave.”

                “Good.” Raven lowered her hands, and raised her gaze to look at the other. “Did he give you any trouble?”

                Vernal shook her head, and slowly moved to sit across from Raven at the table as she motioned for her. “No, he got a little pissy, but he left.”

                “I’ll have a _word_ with him later,” Raven sighed, shutting her eyes and loosening her shoulders. “He knows to listen to you by now.”

                “Does he ever actually listen?”

                “He will, or I’ll make him regret not listening.” Raven’s growl faded as she slowly adjusted her posture and cracked the tiniest of smiles at Vernal. “Vernal, if you would be so kind as to pour us some tea.”

                “Of course.” Vernal nodded, quickly shifting herself to sit on her knees so that she could reach across the table. She was quick to pour two cups of tea before placing one in front of Raven, and the other in front of herself, before readjusting her own sitting position. “What was it that you needed to talk about?”

                “I have a mission to go on—it shouldn’t take more than a day.”

_That’s nothing unusual,_ Vernal thought, watching Raven take a drink of her tea before continuing.

                “It’s important, and it’ll help our tribe in the long run.” She slowly and ever-so-delicately placed her cup back on top of its mat. “And I need you to accompany me on it.”

                “Me? Why?” Vernal slowly crossed her arms; she hadn’t exactly left the settlement, minus going to the nearby stream to collect water, or out into the woods to hunt for fresh meat, since she had first arrived. “Is this going to be a learning thing, or—”

                “I’ve found the Spring Maiden, Lumi, and I need you to work with me to talk to her.” Raven locked her gaze back onto Vernal’s. “It’s likely that, once she sees me, wearing my mask, she’s going to run.” _Anyone with common sense would run if they saw me—with or without the mask. My face is plastered all over bandit boards._ She added silently. “I need you to stop her.”

                “How much training has she had?”

                “Dunno. Which is why we’re going to try and _talk_ to her.”

                “ _Talking_ isn’t _exactly_ what the Branwen tribe does best, though.”

                “I know—which is why we’re going to try.” Raven sighed, taking another, but much deeper, drink of her tea. “I know this is your first mission, but you’re the only one I can trust with me on this one, Vernal.”

                “Why do you trust me so much?”

                “Because you’ve got potential.” Raven silently thought for a moment, her brain replaying memories she had formed with and of Vernal over the past few months. She started to add onto her reasoning, suggest that she had started to view Vernal as a daughter, but withdrew, her lips never forming the words.

                “When are we doing this?”

                “We’re leaving in the morning—before sunrise. I’ve already told Shay to refuse entrance to everyone but us—and to keep record of everyone that leaves.” She let out a weary sigh. “It’s just a matter of if he’ll _actually_ do it.”

                “If he doesn’t, then—”

                “Then he’s going off-duty for awhile, and I’ll make sure he’s learned his lesson.”

 

                The topic shifted to more lighthearted things—Raven reassured her that they would strategize later tonight, before they went to sleep, and on the way to the mission location—as they finished up their tea. Eventually, as the conversation came to a close—Raven rolling up her map, and Vernal gathering the teacups and the kettle—Raven spoke up, her voice soft, and her intent unclear. Her face hidden, as she was turned away, looking through the papers she had scattered on her bedside table.

                “Do you regret your decision, Vernal?”

                “Which one?”

                “To stay with the tribe.”

                Vernal looked down—yes, of course the last few months had been rough, but she could never say that she regretted her decision. She felt content here, like she belonged, like she had a reason in life now—and that was to serve her tribe.

                For the first time in all of her life, she felt like she had family.

                After a moment’s thought, she spoke—clearly, confidently. “No.” She watched Raven turn to face her, a relaxed smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve given me a home.”

                “I’m glad that you feel that way.” Raven gave a small nod. “This has been my home for almost as long as I can remember—” She hesitated, her gaze slowly drifting away, and her expression becoming slightly bitter. “except, of course, for a few years that I went to Beacon, and shortly after that.”

                “Why? Why wasn’t this your home then?”

                “It was, in my heart—but not physically.” Raven reaverted her gaze back to Vernal. “I think this is a conversation that we should have another time, though—we have to clean up and prepare for tomorrow.”

                Vernal gave a hesitant nod—though she couldn’t help but admit that she was disappointed to receive such an unsatisfying answer.

                She knew that Raven would tell her one day, though. Eventually.

 

                She stood alone on a dirt road, just before the path dispersed into the wooded path behind her. She was alone—not entirely, as Raven sat perched in a tree behind her, cawing quietly and lying in wait—but alone on this path.

                In the distance, she could see a single figure, walking; a girl with long, wavy, deep brown hair, and light brown skin. She was shorter in her stature, her simple, cream-colored dress decorated by a pale flower print.

_What unfitting colors for a Spring Maiden._ Raven thought to herself. _This is definitely her, though._

                She started cawing more aggressively, and she flew over Vernal’s head, past the maiden, and landed—not as a bird, but as a human.

                She adjusted her mask, reassuring herself that it was secure, before placing a hand on her weapon’s hilt—just as a safety precaution.

                “Stop where you are.” She instructed, her voice stern.

                As soon as Raven spoke her command, Vernal was quick to pull her own weapon from her hip and aim it towards the maiden.

                “Don’t move.” She instructed, her gaze now locked on the maiden. “Don’t turn around to see who the other is, either. Our identities don’t matter to you.”

                “Lumi Rhea,” Raven raised her muffled voice again as she slowly started to walk towards the maiden. “that is your name, correct?”

                “Yes,” The maiden continued to obey as she was instructed, her hands remaining still by her side, and her pale eyes looking past Vernal and into the woods. “I’m on my way to a village beyond the forest to—”

                “I know where you’re going and what you’re doing.” Raven responded, her voice cold. She now stood a few feet away from the maiden’s back.

                She sighed softly, and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at Raven. The moment she saw her, however, her eyes widened, and she immediately swiveled around to face her, her hands poised and ready to raise a literal storm. “Back away from me, immediately.”

                “We only. Want. To talk.” Raven wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her words punctuated by very brief pauses as she spoke—it was an attempt, albeit a frustrated one—to convey urgency.

                “About? It seems more like you’re only out to ambush me.” She had started to back away, only to physically bump into Vernal—who had moved herself forward a few feet.

                She quickly turned around to face her; panic had started, and her eyes began to glow.

                Of course, when her eyes did, the wind started to pick up. Vernal didn’t hesitate to slam her weapon down on the side of her head—knocking her to the ground. She was dazed, but only for a moment.

                Lumi shook it off, her head still throbbing as she started to scramble backwards on her elbows—a desperate, fleeting attempt to get away from the two.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” Raven asked, approaching her. “We said that we wanted to talk. You started to try and use your powers.” She let out a frustrated sigh, leaning over the other.

_She’s a trembling, sniveling mess_ , Raven remarked, watching tears stream down the maiden’s face. She pulled her sword from its sheath entirely now, ignoring the rapid head-shaking of the maiden that lay on the ground in front of her. _She’s not even fit to be a maiden. She could never handle the pain that comes with it, the fear and weight that comes with Salem hunting her down._

                Before Lumi could even scream, Raven plunged her sword into the center of her chest, allowing only gasping, shaky, failed attempts to breathe to leave her mouth.

                She couldn’t see Vernal looking away from the scene, she was too fixated on her supposed mercy killing that she couldn’t hear the quiet gasp of horror the fourteen-year-old girl standing behind her made.

                Vernal held back any further reaction, drawing a hand to her mouth. She helped incapacitate the maiden—a woman who seemed so untrained in her abilities that she couldn’t even actually defend herself. And she just watched her mother figure _slaughter_ her.

                A part of her being screamed at her to run, but of course, she didn’t. She was too paralyzed—her gaze locked on Raven as she removed her sword from the maiden’s chest. She didn’t even notice when the maiden’s body fell backwards, lifelessly, onto the dirt path.

                It was the first time that she had seen death—murder, specifically. She knew that the Branwen tribe dealt with death a lot, but it had never been something she had actually _seen_.

                The only time that her gaze left Raven was when a light shot from Lumi’s body, and into Raven herself. It knocked Raven back and weakened her enough to cause her to drop onto one knee, her sword, still fresh with blood, planted firmly into the ground to use as _something_ to give her stability.

                Seeing Raven in this condition, panting, her head drooped, it didn’t take Vernal long at all to quickly move in and kneel by her, putting a hand on her arm and lowering herself to look at Raven’s face.

                She almost called her ‘Mom’, but held her tongue and mentally corrected herself. “Are you okay? What _was_ that?”

                It took Raven a moment; she held a hand to her chest as she recollected her breath, and then she spoke. “ _I’m_ the Spring Maiden now, Vernal.” Her voice came out dry, tired—she hadn’t expected the surge of power, and it took everything within her not to scream in pain from it coursing through her.

                Vernal kept her hand on Raven’s arm, her worried gaze darting all over Raven’s face for any hint that she would be strong enough to make the walk back home. “Can you… Can you stand?”

                “I’m fine—” Raven slowly, driving her sword into the ground further to use it as leverage, stood to her feet. She gave a small nod to Vernal, who stayed kneeling, and motioned for her to rise again. “Let’s just go back now.”

                Vernal stood hesitantly, putting her weapon onto the back of her hip again as she did so. “If you need help walking, just tell me.”

                “I’ll let you know.” Raven inhaled sharply again—her entire body was left feeling charged, and despite the pain that had first shot through her veins, she felt alive. “Thank you, Vernal.”

                “Of course, any time.” Vernal replied quietly, walking alongside Raven back along the path into the woods.

 

                Raven immediately went to her tent to sleep upon returning, and while Vernal typically slept in the same tent as her, she didn’t feel like resting right now. Whatever she had just seen—death before her eyes, the transfer of maiden powers—it had her stressed, uneasy, and she felt like the only thing that could take her mind off of it was work.

                Hours and hours of working. Organizing supplies, fixing meals for other people within the tribe, treating wounds—it didn’t matter. She was keeping herself busy.

                When the night fell, however, she found herself with nothing to do, except make a warm meal, some tea, and check on Raven.

                She slowly parted the curtain of the tent with her head, speaking low into the dimly-lit room. “Raven? I think you should eat something.”

                She heard a muffled groan in response, and assumed that was the okay to come on inside. When she placed the tray of food and tea onto the wooden table, creating a soft tunk noise, Raven slowly sat up.

                “Vernal, I thought I was dreaming for a second there.” She murmured, pushing the bangs out of her eyes. “It’s late, I figured you would have slept as soon as we got back.”

                “I couldn’t.”

                Raven’s eyes opened a bit wider as she moved her feet to rest against the ground beneath her bed. “Ah, shit, was it the fact that you saw someone die today?”

                Vernal remained silent, only moving her portion of the meal off of the tray and in front of her.

                “Vernal.”

                She stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the food—she wasn’t even eating, she was simply moving it around with her fork.

                Raven let out an agitated sigh, her voice becoming sterner with it. “ _Vernal_.”

                Vernal hesitated, her lips quivering briefly. “Yeah—yes, it did, actually. That’s what set me off.”

                “I’m not going to say you get used to it after awhile,” Raven moved off of her bed, stretching her arms behind herself briefly as she did, and sat down across from Vernal. “I can’t speak for you, so I don’t know if you’re _going_ to get used to it. But I want you to know that I had to do that.”

                Vernal lashed out, tears in her eyes and anguish written on her face. “You _had_ to kill her? You couldn’t just, just bring her back?” She had planted her hands firmly on the table, leaning over it. “You couldn’t have brought her back, like you did with me?”

                “You’re almost fifteen—you shouldn’t have had to see that.” Raven sighed, averting her gaze from the other. “But, here, that’s just how things are. You learn to fight and kill from a young age.”

                Vernal slowly sat back down, a sob catching in her throat. She quickly wiped her face of any remaining tears, and inhaled as deeply as she could to compose herself.

                “My biological daughter—I left her with my ex-husband. She still ended up learning to fight, and she still saw death from an early age.” Raven’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry that you weren’t ready for this kind of mission, Vernal. I honestly am.”

                “It’s okay.” Vernal muttered.

                “I think of you as my own, and I wouldn’t have put you through that if I didn’t think you were ready.”

                Vernal slowly raised her eyes back up to Raven before shutting them again. “I said that I would do whatever I could for the tribe. I _mean_ that.”

                “Try to eat and sleep for now. We have something else to talk about in the morning, Vernal.” She slowly raised herself, extending her arm over the table to touch Vernal’s shoulder. “It’s nothing too heavy, it’s just… A precaution about the maiden powers.”

                “I understand.” She muttered her response, slowly putting a piece of meat into her mouth as Raven lowered herself once again.


End file.
